The Silver Dog Tag
by Veldytheflamelady
Summary: Gregory Lestrade had been a police officer for more than a decade and he thought he could handle any kind of situations. He was proven wrong when Sherlock was shot. Lestrade's PoV. Implied Johnlock.


**A/N: **Hello! This fanfiction is written for Johnlock Gift Exchange on tumblr. The prompt is _"Sherlock and John have been secretly dating for ages, but everyone at Scotland Yard finds out when they (somehow) notice Sherlock wearing John's old dogtags. Any rating."_ I have posted this on AO3 under the same author name. I think it will be nice to put the fic up in here too. ;) Sorry for the lame title!

Warning for mention of blood.

This is fic is a gift for Hope-Hazard on tumblr! :D

Enjoy!

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Gregory Lestrade had been in the police force for more than a decade and he always thought that he had enough experiences so that he could keep calm in any kind of situations. Life as a policeman was never easy and he had experienced much troublesome and gruesome case that would give people enough nightmares for the rest of their lives. He was proven wrong when tonight, what was supposedly just a normal crime case went wrong and he realized that he was just a step away from panicking.

Like usual, the crime in which Greg was involved with was a homicide case. Two men were found dead on their flats separately but the cause of their deaths was the same when inspected by the forensics. Stabbed repeatedly on the stomach with their ring finger chopped off. Their flats were only a few blocks away and there was nothing else that connected both of them together except the cause of the death. Greg has found a dead end in his team investigation and it was a weird case anyway, so of course Greg had called on Sherlock Holmes, the infamous self-proclaimed the only consulting detective in the world, to help solving the case.

Sherlock had arrived at the crime scene, followed closely by his companion Dr. John Watson, and after a few minutes, Sherlock had told Greg what he had got (very vaguely and after Greg demanded for it) and then he was off to God knows where (with John not so far behind him of course). Greg didn't even care anymore that Sherlock had been running around on his own for a case that was technically Greg's case. He didn't care and he just hoped Sherlock got the murderer as quickly as possible so he could fill the paperwork, file the case away, go home and sleep on his own bed after 2 days sleeping on and off inside the New Scotland Yard building.

It had all been usual, even the part in which Sherlock called him to send polices to an address. What had been unusual was the fact that just a few minutes after Sherlock had revealed how the crime was done and the police was about to handcuff the murderer, there was a loud gunshot heard. For a few seconds, all Greg could do was stared as the lean tall body of Sherlock fell over the ground with a loud thump.

Greg could hear the sound of his own heartbeats as he ran over to Sherlock as quickly as he could and kneeled near the almost motionless body. Greg could hear groans and hard breathing and he gulped as he saw Sherlock's red hand that was clutching his abdomen. Greg could see the blood soaking Sherlock's shirt quickly. Sherlock was losing blood. Greg could not really remember, but he must have called for paramedic (or maybe someone else did). The paramedics came rushing through the scene and Sherlock was breathing very heavily but that damn bastard was obviously struggling with the paramedics and Greg wanted to scream and rip his hair because for the Queen's sake he was dying! Greg was about to shout and tell him that when Sherlock's hand suddenly gripped his shirt and pulled him closer in surprise. Greg suddenly noticed a glint of silver around Sherlock's throat. A quick look and then he recognized it as an army dog tag.

"Tell…John… I would be fine…" Sherlock said slowly between his breaths, his grey eyes were focusing intensely on Greg's. He gulped and continued. "Don't…tell him … this happened" Greg took a deep breath. Sherlock was definitely losing too much blood because listen at what he talked! Totally unreasonable.

"I can't tell John that, Sherlock. He is going to know of course. Now don't talk back to me don't even struggle! You are losing too much blood but you are going to be fine. Stay put," replied Greg slowly. Sherlock looked like he was about to struggle more but seemed that he was too weak now. He was being carried into the ambulance. Greg walked beside Sherlock.

The paramedics had put oxygen mask on Sherlock. Sherlock's pale face was even paler and god, he looked liked a corpse already. Greg felt dizzy but then he heard a mobile phone ringing and he noticed that it was the ringtone of Sherlock's mobile. Sherlock was struggling again, trying to take the phone out but Greg found the phone inside the outer pocket of his suit jacket. It was John. Greg pressed 'answer'.

"Sherlock! I have told you—" John sounded furious and Greg cut him. "John, this is—"

"Greg? Wher—" John's tone changed from furious to confused in barely a second. God. Greg didn't want to be the one who broke the news. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Sherlock inside the ambulance. Greg quickly walked over to get inside with Sherlock.

"John, listen. I wish it was just a lie, but Sherlock has been shot—" silence on the other line. "The murderer took one of the officers' gun and shoot him before he was fully arrested—"

"Which hospital?!" asked John in panic and Greg answered him just that and before he could say more, John had hung up on him. Greg quickly slid Sherlock's phone inside his own pocket and sat beside Sherlock inside the ambulance. Sherlock was barely conscious. The paramedics around him were trying to keep his vitals stabile.

In a record time, they arrived in one of the closest hospital and Sherlock was quickly rushed to the emergency unit. Greg breathed deeply and sat down on one of the uncomfortable hospital benches in the nearest corridor to the operating room where Sherlock was and clasped his hands together. He noticed the tremor on his hands. Greg took another deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat but then he heard sounds of rushing footsteps. Greg looked up and there was John, looking so much like a corpse with how pale he was. His eyes were wild in panic and worry and it seemed that he didn't see that Greg was there as he was still rushing toward the operating room. Greg quickly walked in front of John and held him back on his shoulders.

"John, he is in the operating room now. He is going to be fine," Greg said to John. The ex-army surgeon looked at him wildly and Greg could see the terror from his eyes. "He is going to be fine. The best surgeons are handling him. Calm down, John," continued Greg. It was maybe because of his tone, or maybe his experiences in handling shocked victim's families but John was getting a tiny bit calmer. He stopped struggling and his shoulders were slumped down in defeat. His entire body was still trembling and Greg, in sympathy, put an arm around John's shoulders and led him to sit down on one of the benches. Greg told him to stay put went to buy a cup of tea for John and himself.

When he went back, John was still sitting down, both of his hands were clasped together, his body was still trembling. Greg took a deep breath and was relieved when he noticed that his heartbeat had gone back to normal and he felt overall calm. He sat next to John and offered the tea to John who received it and took a sip of it. Greg took a sip from his own cup and looked up at the ceiling. Silence filled between the empty corridors of the hospital. It had only been 30 minutes since Sherlock was admitted to the emergency unit. The doctors said that from the amount of bleeding, the operation could probably take time up to 6 hours.

"I should be with him, Greg—" John started, breaking the silence. "I had work at the surgery and I had insisted that I should stay with him. He told me that he could handle this case alone but now he…" John stopped and Greg could see without really looking that John was trying to compose himself.

"If only I was there, Greg… I could warn him… protect him…"

John stopped talking. Greg didn't offer apologies on behalf of the Scotland Yard's carelessness. When John started to cry silently, Greg didn't say anything but just sit there and pray to any upper beings out there that Sherlock would be totally fine.

* * *

Greg didn't even realize that he fell asleep but he was woken up when someone was calling him. Greg groaned and opened his eyes slowly to see who had woken him. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Mycroft Holmes in front of him. Greg immediately straightened up and groaned a little bit again when his body protested. He could see that John was nowhere to be seen.

"John is out to get himself tea 5 minutes ago. Sleeping in place like this must be very uncomfortable, Detective Inspector," informed Mycroft. The older Holmes was wearing a well-tailored three piece suit like usual. His umbrella and his PA were nowhere to be seen. The memory from the previous night came rushing inside his brain and it alerted him.

"Sherlock, how is he?" asked Greg. Mycroft smiled thinly and looked toward the operating room.

"He is still not out from the operating room. But from what I managed to enquiry from the nurse, his condition is mostly stable—" Greg sighed in relief. "—I am sure that he is going to be fine but in the future, I hope you do contact me when something like this ever happen again, Detective Inspector." Greg's eyes widened again in realization and he quickly took out his mobile phone and indeed there were a few text messages and missed calls. Some were from Donovan and Anderson, but the others were from Mycroft. Greg looked up and smiled apologetically.

"Next time I will definitely contact you, Mr. Holmes—" The door of the operating room was opened and then the surgeons and nurses were exiting and there was Sherlock, on his bed unconscious being railed away. Both Greg and Mycroft were immediately approaching them. Mycroft asked how Sherlock's condition was. The smiles on the surgeons showed the answer well enough. Sherlock was going to be fine. He needed to stay in the hospital for at least a week and then Sherlock needed to fully rest for at least a month (in which mean that Sherlock would not be handling cases any time soon).

"Sherlock," Greg heard John's voice and when he looked over his shoulder, there John was, holding a cup of tea in one hand. When John looked at Sherlock's sleeping form, he quickly put his fingers around Sherlock's wrist. After a beat, John smiled and his postures were more relaxed. Greg noticed the way John's thumb was rubbing the Sherlock's inner wrist in circle.

Greg suddenly remembered the silver dog tag around Sherlock's neck previously and when he looked up a little bit he could still saw a little bit of Silver lining around Sherlock's neck. Then he looked back at John's relieved face and Greg really wanted to laugh when saw the obvious love and adoration reflected from John's eyes. Greg was not an idiot. He could remember the exact things reflected from Sherlock when looking at John and he could put two and two together.

It was 3 o' clock in the morning and Gregory Lestrade found out that Sherlock Holmes, the world only consulting detective, was in relationship with Dr. John Watson, ex-army surgeon. Sherlock had been shot a few hours ago, but was definitely going to be fine. The case Greg handled has been solved. Greg could not be happier.

* * *

"So, Sherlock and John are in relationship, huh?" said Greg casually when he and Mycroft were walking together out of the hospital (John was allowed to stay at the hospital after Mycroft had done whatever it was that he did). Mycroft raised one his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Yes, they are. They didn't tell me but… I have my way and I could see the way they interact. How did you find out, Detective Inspector? I know that they don't reveal it to the public," replied Mycroft. It's now Greg who shrugged.

"I have always known that they are close and that John admires Sherlock, but well yeah… after Sherlock got shot, I noticed a dog tag around his neck. I know that it must belong to a soldier. I didn't really remember about that until I saw John again. I put two and two together," Greg answered. Mycroft chuckled and both of them stopped when they were near a sleek black car which was obviously Mycroft's.

"So where are you going, Detective Inspector? I could give you a lift," offered Mycroft. Greg was about to refuse the offer but then again it was almost 4 AM already and it would be bloody difficult to find transport so Greg accepted Mycroft's offer and told the driver his address.

All was fine.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! :D


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